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Kaul wipes a bit of spittle and blood from his forehead and recovers a half-dozen brass pennies from the bruised bravado before he finishes his trip to the weaponmongers.
The half-orc just enters this time and finds Otto still at his workbench. He look up and brushes a loose lock of graying hair from his eyes. "It'll take a little longer. Couldn't really post it so the setting will rely on prongs, but they're really reinforced so it should be able to handle everything you throw at it."
Kaul mugs a grin;
"Hur. Take yer time. Ain't got nowhere tae be..."
The thug watches the smith at work, then chimes in with some idle chit-chat;
"Hur... Onna way 'ere I put the manners on a street tough o' Scurvytown. Before I put 'im to sleep he was moaning' bout not gettin' sleep on account o' nightmares... Reckon he needed 'is mummy to tuck 'im in... Hur..."
He chuckles menacingly to himself, then carries on;
"You 'eard on anythin' weird re-gards slumberin' Otto? Maybes its just the Scurvytowners loosin' sleep o'er us orcers butcherin' em in their beds... Hur-hur-hur-hur..."
He shakes his scarred noggin with a mako grin, absent mindedly pulling a tooth embedded in his forehead free...
Jim gives Corliss the stinkeye, then smiles at the Cap'n. "We can discuss plotting courses some other time, hey?" To the priest, "Glad to hear it, mate. Let's go see what Dibbets is up to."
Jim, Corliss, and Dingus stand idly on the weather deck waiting for the dripping halfling's explanation.
Cracking his neck Dibbs spills forth "Well.. Salty were a nei show... but I gots a bit of a think walk regardless eh. Bad sh1te comin out o' Scurvy... well... more 'n normal like. Risin dread wi eight red glowing eyes above a horrible mandibles face... seems like the sorta thing we'd best see tae dealin wi' iffin we wants Freeport tae be tha same when we sails back in frae a voyage eh?"
"Eight eyes, eh?" Corliss ponders aloud. "Sounds like a spider o' some sort to me...or maybe conjoined ettins? Mandibles brings me mind back to a spider, though. Don't like spiders...."
"You 'eard on anythin' weird re-gards slumberin' Otto?..."
Otto chuckles. "This part of town IS a bad dream. No, I sleep fine so long as there's sharp steel at hand. I'm sleeping well."
Jim starts. "So, I suppose it's purely a coincidence that your vision showed a spider threatening Scurvytown when we've got that book mentioning a Spider working with Stumpy, hey?"
Kaul chuckles at Otto's black humour;
"Aye. Ain't much sharp steel can't solve... Likely just Scurvytowner eating' some bad cheese afore bed..."
The thug fishes into is pouch, producing the required coin for the weapon smith, then digs in again and comes up with some chewin' tabac.
Flashing a jagged grin he pops some into his grill before offering a plug to the smithy...
"Chew?"
Dingus claps his hands in response. "Oh goody. Spiders! They're not as much fun as snakes". He rubs Richard lightly as he says this. "But are still very fascinating creatures".
Musing a moment and choosing to not be too disturbed at Dingus' affinity Dibbs adds "Aye, could be a spider like... but 'is a vision eh? Could be a name or a person rather than an actual insect... doesnae bode right fer Free anyhow." looking around and noticing a lack "Where's nugget... ye didnae let him wander round wi'out a minder didja?"
Otto just points at the spittoon and focuses on his work. It isn't too much longer before he finishes up and inspects it closely before giving a nod of approval. "Alright." He hands the weapon back.
The eye rests in a kind of steel basket at the end of the shaft. It is held tightly held, but it can swivel slightly within its cage. "I thought it might like the opportunity to look around a bit." Otto explains with a grim grin.
Kaul echoes his grim chuckle and places a pouch of jingling coin on the smithy's table;
"Hur. Perfect mate. Hunner skulls fir the work, 'nuther 30 fir the craft an' 20 fir the 'istory lesson on Lopper."
He hefts the heavy hatchet with another chuckle;
"Much abliged matey. I'll be sure tae send more work yer way when the opporchancity arises."
Grinning like a loon the thug pats his axe and heads back to ship an' shipmates...
Kaul makes his exit and heads back to the main street out of Scurvytown. Oddly, by the time the Kill Shop comes into view, he notes a thick fog gathering. He notes that it is unnatural for the marine layer to curdle the air this late in the day. The afternoon heat usually disperses any lingering mists of the morning.
The fog thickens around the half-orc muting light and sound. Threatening phantasms seem to coalesce around him. Beyond the Kill Shop comes the meek remnants of screams, but no one else is seen. Then a murky humanoid form shambles from the alley across from Kaul.
"Hmmm. It does seem that we let Kaul wander off by himself. Maybe we'd better go look for him".
The group re-Kaul their mate saying that he was going to the weapon dealer in Scurvytown to trick out his ax.
Kaul watches the figure in the murk, noting Lopper's eye swivelling to also gaze at the form;
"Hur... Bit o' a pea-souper eh Lopps? Ain't too many folks wantin' to shuffle up on Ol' Kauly..."
The axe slips into his paw as he mutters to himself, before hailing the figure;
"Hur...Reckons we take 'em to task... Hey mate! Ye lost yer bearings in this soup? Come on o'er to me, I'll help ye find yer way... "
The thug stifles a chuckle and beckons the figure with his claw, as the hatchet is lifted high...
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Corliss hangs his blessed bling over his neck, admiring the magic amulet and throwing a wink and quick kiss to the image of Besmara that likely only he can discern in the pearl's swirling black vapor.
"So...we goin' to Scurvytown to make sure our chum Kaul be safe, or we makin' sure Scurvytown's still in one piece after Kauly's visit?"
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Kaul is somewhat mesmerised by the wispy apes who taunt him. He snaps back to cold reality when the chewed corpse grabs hold of him!
Despite the creature's terrible visage the brute holds it together but howls at the cold pain inflicted by its grip as he attempts to wrench himself free...
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Jim grins at the priest. "Aye. Let's go."
Round 2
Kaul scowls as Lopper fails to cleave the mist wretch, a frown that deepens at the materialising of the watch;
"You lot better be 'ere to 'elp... Or are ye 'ere at all? Softly Watchie Catchy Monkey? Not Kauly! HUR!"
With a roar he launches another furious hack at his fogmentor;
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Interested in catching up with Kaul, the crew disembark and start making their way down the docks toward the east side of Freeport.
*****
Kaul gives a momentary pauses as he feels his body begin to act like he's encased in molasses...
"Whhhaaat thhee ffffeeecckkkk!?"
The red mist of his own decends and swings lazily with his Red Claw
"Cooommm eee're yeee ssssskiiinnny baaassssteeerrd"
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The crew move along the docks grabbing something to eat at the market to assuage growling stomachs and Dibbets' throbbing head. They pass the pier where the Broken Mug used to stand and note that the pier has been fully repaired though the old building has not been replaced. Just beyond that, they enter Scurvytown weathering an occasion snide remark tossed at the out of place halfling.
Jim recalls that Otto's shop is not far from the fish market and he leads the group down a couple foul smelling alleys before finding the well constructed building clear of the usual lean-to's and tightly bunched hovels typical of the cramped conditions in Scurvytown. However, the shop looks closed and it is quiet within.
As the wispy wretch rends his body and soul, Kaul bellows in fury and frustration, attempting to bash the creature's ruined face with his Claw once again;
"HURRRRRRRRAAAAAARRRRRGGGHHHHH!"
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Corliss tries the front door, knocking if it's locked.
The door isn't locked and Corliss goes ahead and opens it to find a very, very long and sharp sword at his throat. A very scarred and calloused hand holds the sword and the hand is attached to a very powerful and unhappy shirtless gentleman, also scarred and with long graying blonde hair. "You didn't knock," he growls threateningly.
"Thought ye ran a business, mate," Corliss answers a bit nervously. "Wasn't sure a-knockin' was required, 'specially as how the door be unlocked. Just here to ask iff'n ye seen our pal, Kauly. Told us he had some business ye could help him with. Seen him?"
The blade remains rock steady at Corliss' throat as the man speaks slowly. "I don't need locks; the locals know better than to barge in." He looks over the others and gives Jim a nod. "Hey there, "Lady's Favor." His eyes squint at the quartz on the pommel of Jim's sword. "Looks like you've upgraded from that old Hell Hound hand-me-down. Now how'd you come by that? Your orc friend was just here. Went that way." He removes the blade from Corliss' throat and gestures to the north.
As his life's essence is torn from him and the Red Claw barely makes a dent Kaul pauses momentarily as a new emotion seeps into his bones... Fear.
Feck's sake... this basterd deader will be me end! Ol' Kauly drained on the cobbles..! FECK!
The thug sees the Watch move like treacle, but knows his best bet might be use them as a distraction
Jim taps the hilt of his sword. "This used to belong to Cap'n Storm-Eyes, once upon a time. Not sure whose it was 'fore that."
Dibbets takes the idle time chinwagging to turn his eyes out t'ward Kaul's general voyaging destination - seeing if he can make out aught of interest.
Otto nods and scratches his graying stubble. "Storm-eyes has been gone awhile. Did you find her cache? I don't recall her naming the blade, which is a pity, but I recall tales that her blade could channel lightning. Are the tales true?"
Dibbets glances to the alley that Otto gestured down. All seems unnaturally quiet for Scurvytown- No loud arguments or cursing or drunken shouts. The alley has an odd hazy look to it as well.
Jim scratches his chin. "Her ship fetched up on Warvil's Folly, if I remember aright. There was an...eccentric fellow, I suppose you might say...who was wrecked there himself sometime later, and he had the blade. For some reason he thought it reasonable to trade swords with me, and--well, I didn't have the heart to say no. Aye, the tales are true. Mind if I demonstrate?"
The once sell sword now sword seller assents with a grin. "By all means."
Jim steps away from Otto and draws his sword, willing it to activate.
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A spark flashes in the quartz stone at the pommel and electricity arcs along the blade. Otto gives an appreciative whistle. "That's a powerful blade. A legendary blade deserves a memorable name though. I guess you could just call it Storm-Eyes, but it's your blade now." He shrugs. "I'd invite you all in to swap more stories, but I'm busy at the moment and you seemed to need to find your friend. Some other time."
Body wracked by the dead man's hand, Kaul weighs up his options... coming to a quick conclusion;
Better them than me eh Lopps?
The thug moves slowly backward from the melee, continuing to distance himself;
"Don't worry lads! I'll get 'elp!"
The Taldan nods. "Aye, I should give it a name. Well, time for tales later--we've got a thug to find, hey?" The corona dies on his sword, and he resheathes it smoothly.
The crew creeps toward the mist enshrouded alley that Otto indicated. The strange fog has a viscous texture that seems to drain color and sound as one steps into it. It also offers a tangible resistance. Dibbets feels uneasy as he recalls his Leng binge.
Knuckles whitening as he grips the handle of his boomstick Dibbs warns "This ain't feelin roight lads... I dinnae likes it... ye wants me tae clear out the foggy?"
"Aye, mate. Do what you can." Jim loosens his blade in its sheath, ready for action.
"This is spooky! Richard, slither onward... quietly, and see what lies ahead".
Dingus casts Mage Armor on himself, and peers through the fog himself.
Perception.
Richards Stuff
Stealth
Perception
Corliss draws his magical rapier and waits for Dibbets to lift the veil of fog.
The viper slithers forward with his tongue flickering and lets his master know that the big smelly one, as opposed to the little smelly one, is nearby. As he nears the end of the alley, he feels vibrations through the earth that warn of combat ahead.
Dibbets pits halitosis against haze and finds that the creepy condensate is barely affected. The gust seems to pass right through the murk barely rippling it as it goes.
Frowning Dibbs muses "T'aint right... isnae wiltin under me breath..."